


The Closer We Get

by romanticalgirl



Series: Crowded Room [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Secretary Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Okay. MAYBE there are feelings.





	The Closer We Get

Tony walks into Bucky’s apartment without knocking. “Hey, freezer burn. I heard you were looking for an assistant.”

“Go away, Tony.”

“I found the perfect replacement for Rogers.”

“Go. Away. Tony.”

“Great qualifications. Comes highly recommended.”

“Is that too many syllables for you? How about fuck off?” There’s the sound of a cabinet slamming and then Bucky stalks out of the kitchen, gun in hand. “Now.”

He freezes and Steve can see Tony and his shit-eating grin out of the corner of his eye. “You sure you don’t want to look at his resume?”

“Steve.” It’s not quite a gasp, but it’s breathless. “What…”

“I heard. Um.” He sighs. “I heard you had an opening.”

Tony snorts. Loudly. “That’s my cue to leave.”

“Your cue to leave was when I told you to fuck off.” Tony leaves the echo of his laughter behind him. Bucky hasn’t looked away from Steve. “Do you want a drink?”

“Water?”

“Yeah.” He heads back toward the kitchen, and Steve follows him.. Steve settles on a stool at the counter while Bucky grabs two waters out of the refrigerator. He slides one across to Steve.

Opening it, Steve takes a drink, then holds it between both hands. He waits patiently, watching as Bucky takes a drink of his own. Once Bucky’s swallowed, Steve exhales. “I owe you an apology.” He looks down at his water. He holds his hand up to keep Bucky silent, then swallows a few times before continuing. “I was an ass. I twisted your words. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I had every right and reason to quit.”

“You did.”

“Anyway. I’m sorry. And, no matter what Tony says, I don’t – ” 

“I didn’t expect this.” Bucky ducks his head to keep from meeting Steve’s eyes. “To see you. I mean. I didn’t expect to see you again, to be honest.”

Steve rests his hands on his thighs, but he can’t seem to keep them from clenching into fists. “Really?”

“You seemed pretty definitive about it. Like ‘I hope you burn in hell while I laugh’ levels of fuck you.”

“Well, Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Bucky frowns. “What do you mean? You’re not a beggar! I mean. Everyone should be clamoring to hire you. I signed the letter!”

“I got tired of answering questions about you instead of about me.” Steve exhales. “So here I am.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. His eyes are wide and he doesn’t look away. “You are. I mean, like I said. I figured you were gone for good.”

“Are you going to make me ask?”

“No. No! Oh.” Bucky shakes his head and he’s absolutely not blushing. “You’re unfired. I mean. I guess you unquit?”

“I’m not moving in.”

“Okay.” Steve relaxes at that, his hands unclenching. Instead he runs the palms of his hands over his thighs. Bucky watches the movement intently, and Steve feels himself blush.. “It was just a thought. And out of line.”

“It was.”

“Okay, so. Did you… well, I guess the work day’s almost over.” Bucky swallows hard, and Steve can’t help watching his throat. “Tomorrow?”

“We can start tonight.”

“Great. Great. Are you hungry? I can get some pizza sent up. And I have beer.”

Steve’s about to protest when his stomach rumbles. He sighs. “Yeah. Food sounds good.”

**

As Bucky calls for pizza, Steve goes into the living room. His laptop is sitting right where he left it two weeks ago. All of his logins still work, but he’s not sure if that’s because Tony reinstated them, they forgot to clear him from the system, or Tony was just that sure he’d come back.

From what little he knows of Tony, he’s going to go with option three.

“Shit. Hang on.” Bucky pokes his head out of the kitchen. “How do you like you pizza?”

“No fish, no fruit.” Steve doesn’t look up. He opens Bucky’s calendar to see what he’s going to have to troubleshoot.

“So that means everything else is good. Are we talking fruit-fruit or the literal definition of fruit?”

Steve sighs and looks up. Bucky looks concerned, like he’s desperate to get this right. “No pineapple. No anchovies. Otherwise it’s all good.”

“Okay. Good. I can work with that.” He disappears back into the kitchen, and Steve goes back to the calendar.

“FRIDAY? Anything drastic?”

“The sergeant’s week was relatively empty given the plan for your time off. I took the liberty of informing Ms. Prince that he was still recovering.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“Of course. And may I say it’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks,” Steve says again. “it’s good to be back. I think.”

“I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure Sergeant Barnes will be back to his usual self soon.”

“I hope so, or I really am going to have to stab him.” He gathers up his laptop and goes into the kitchen, settling at the island counter. Bucky straightens from where he’s squatting in front of the refrigerator. The view is nice, but the denim of his jeans is looser and not stretched quite as tightly over his ass, and Steve can no longer see the waistband of his underwear.

Not that he’s looking.

Because he isn’t.

At all.

Bucky stands up and turns around, opening a beer and setting it on the counter. He looks at Steve seriously for a minute, then points at the laptop. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“What?”

“I have a _schedule_. A schedule, Steve.”

“I’m aware. I scheduled everything. As part of my job.”

“I’m booked months in advance barring any world-threatening events.”

“You can – ” 

“You used _shorthand_, Steve. How the fuck am I or anyone else supposed to know what ‘narr NG spec glob wrm’ means?”

“Narrate National Geographic special on global warming.”

“Right, okay. But how would I… Huh, that sounds pretty cool actually.”

“No pun intended?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re not funny.”

“Though, I suppose, given your history, you might be all for it.”

“Gee, the cryo jokes never get old.” Bucky points at another entry. “‘MG w DP.’”

“Met Gala with Diana Prince.”

“Um, no.”

“All of you are going. Even Thor.”

“Clint?”

“Yes, under Natasha’s threat of vengeance.”

“Does everyone else have a date? I mean, besides Tony?” He glances at Steve and reads the answer on his face. “Fine.” 

“And from the looks of it, you didn’t go to the Children's Hospital with the team. Which, by the way, was a shitty thing to skip out on.”

“They had Tony and Thor.”

“Well, as much as _I’d_ rather see Thor, the kids like the metal arm. We’ll have to schedule a day with just you.”

“Mark wasn’t very Thor-like.”

Steve levels a hard gaze at Bucky, and Bucky snaps his mouth shut. “Thor is totally worth going out of type for.”

Bucky nods. “Okay. That’s fair. What exactly is your…” He’s cut off by several of Tony’s robots coming in the door carrying six pizza boxes.

Steve looks at them, then turns wide eyes on Bucky. “I’m not that hungry.”

“I wanted you to have a variety. Plus I eat a lot. And, you know, leftover pizza.”

Steve nods and shrugs. One of the robots runs into the island, and only Bucky’s quick reflexes saves the pizza from an ugly fate. Setting the pizzas down, Bucky pats the robot on the head.

“Thanks, guys.”

They beep at him, then turn, leaving the apartment. Steve looks over at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. “No tip? I didn’t take you for stingy.”

“What do you tip a robot?”

Shrugging, Steve opens the top box. “Oil can? WD-40?”

Bucky laughs and grabs two plates and hands one to Steve. “Dig in.”

Steve puts three slices on his plate, pulling one free and taking a bite. He scrolls through the schedule as he eats until Bucky pushes the laptop closed. “I was using that.”

“Just eat. Drink. Relax.” He looks back over at the calendar Steve has pulled up. “What’s ‘S bd pres’?” 

Steve laughs. “You can ignore that one.”

“No, I can’t! It’s on my calendar!”

“It’s stupid and unnecessary. I’ll take it off.”

“I’m your boss again. Can I order you to tell me?”

Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “It’s July first.”

“Yes. That part of the calendar I understand.”

Steve points to Monday. “July fourth.”

“Yeah. Tony’s throwing a ridiculous party. You have to come, by the way.”

“Can’t.”

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “Have to.”

“I can’t. I have plans.” He shakes his head. “And before you tell me to cancel them – they’re not plans I made. They were made for me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means my friends are throwing me a party.”

“For what? Why? Can I come?”

“My birthday. And no.” He taps the first again. “Steve’s birthday. Present. You were going to buy me something nice.”

“Am I going to buy you something not nice instead?”

“You’re not going to buy me anything. Why would you?”

“I would assume for the same reason I was going to before.”

“Things have changed.”

“No they haven’t.”

“Yes, they have. I accused you of some stuff that was just as bad as what you accused me of.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, not understanding. “But you forgive me, right?”

“I mean, it was still shitty, but yeah.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “You forgive me. I forgive you. See? We're all good again.” Bucky smiles at him, a mixture of nervous and hopeful. “You think I suck at apologizing? Trust me, you don’t want to have to see me beg.”

“I don’t know. Might be nice.”

Bucky laughs and bumps Steve’s shoulder with his own. “It’s good to have you back.”

Before Steve can ask him to repeat it, Bucky takes a large bite of pizza and starts chewing. Steve smirks, hiding it behind his own slice. “Bet you change your mind about that in less than a week.”

**

“Rogers!”

Steve looks up from the couch where he’s sitting, leaning back against the arm with his feet tucked up under him. He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky throws something at him, and Steve reaches out automatically to catch it. He glances down at the object.

“Is there a reason you’re throwing a bag of M&Ms at me?”

“I don’t _like_ M&Ms.”

“I know that. Good thing they’re not for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to make myself comfortable. I like M&Ms. Therefore you got me M&Ms.”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets out a long breath through his nose. “Have I lasted a week?”

“Two and a half days. Which, to be honest, is longer than I thought you’d last.”

“Right.” This time Bucky heaves a sigh. “Are you being this way on purpose?”

“Just who I am.”

“Ugh.”

“Have you considered that it’s not me? That you’re the one with the problem? I mean, the other Avengers I’ve met seem to like me, and none of my other friends have issues with me.”

“Sam seems to have quite a few.”

“That’s only because Sam and I have known each other a long time.”

“So I’m just the lucky one whose had issues with you from the very start.”

“Well, as a superhero, you really let me down. Couldn’t even get us out of a room.”

“There was no door!”

“Didn’t stop Tony.”

“I don’t have…” Bucky breaks off and narrows his eyes. “You’re a little shit.”

Steve blinks, eyes wide and innocent, lashes long and dark against his pale skin. “What?”

Bucky picks up a throw pillow from the chair and flings it at Steve. Steve laughs and ducks, slithering off the couch onto the floor. Bucky nearly trips over him as Steve crawls between Bucky’s feet and makes his way across the room before he stands up.

Steve grins widely as he opens the pack of M&Ms, flicking one at Bucky. “Have to say, your performance tonight isn’t doing much to convince me you really are a superhero.”

He throws another M&M and Bucky snags it out of the air and whips it right back at him, careful of how much force he puts behind it. It hits Steve in the center of his chest, and he gasps. 

“What kind of superhero behavior is that? I do declare, you are practically a bad guy here.”

“You declare that, do you?” Bucky takes a step toward Steve, slow and deliberate. Steve watches him with wide eyes, and Bucky can see his pupils dilate as he moves even closer. “I’m a bad man.”

“Bad… Bad guy.” Steve swallows hard. “Totally different.”

“Is it?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. And I think that you _like_ that I’m a bad man.”

“No.”

Bucky takes another step closer and Steve finally takes a step back. As much as it should be a retreat, all it does is box Steve in against the wall. Bucky closes the distance between them. Bucky looks down at Steve’s mouth, and Steve stops mental processes all stop, and he has no idea what’s _happening_. “No?”

Steve blinks rapidly and shakes his head. Bucky licks his lips and tilts his head down only to get Steve’s hand in his face and a mouthful of M&Ms. Bucky nearly inhales one in his shock, and Steve ducks from underneath Bucky’s arm. Bucky turns his head and glares, spitting M&Ms out. 

Steve sighs and shakes his head as he looks at the spray of color. “You totally owe me another bag.”

“I owe you a – ” Bucky’s phone starts beeping, the alarm for an Avengers’ emergency. He actually growls, and Steve shrugs. “We’re not done.”

“Better go, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir. Duty calls.”

Bucky growls again, grabs Steve by the shirt and pulls him close. “You are a little shit, Rogers.”

“I know.” Steve boops Bucky’s nose with his finger, then puts an M&M in his own mouth. “Try not to get killed.”

Bucky sets him back on the ground, turns on his heel and strides out of the room. Steve watches him go, swallows, hard, and sinks down onto the floor. His whole body is hot and trembling and he _very much_ needs to be somewhere else whenever Bucky comes home.

**

The next time he sees Bucky is three weeks later when the Avengers come home. He walks into the apartment, glares at Steve, and heads straight for his bedroom. There are dual thumps of his boots and then the mattress springs squeak, and then there’s nothing but silence. Steve heads to the bedroom a few minutes later and stands in Bucky’s open doorway.

He’s asleep, passed out, or dead. Steve’s not completely sure. His face is unnaturally pale for him, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s breathing underneath the constrictive leather of his armor. Steve shakes his head. “No.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just tells himself no again. Tells himself no with every step he takes closer to the bed. He puts his hand over Bucky’s nose and mouth, close enough to feel the dampness of his breath. He exhales a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

In his sleep, Bucky looks nothing like the Winter Soldier, even in his full regalia. He looks like any guy in his early thirties with good hair, a bad haircut, and a penchant for leather. Which Steve focuses very hard on not thinking about. Especially when Bucky shifts and winces, wrapping his arm over his stomach like he hurts.

“Do not.” He tells himself again even as he carefully starts undoing Bucky’s armor. Buckles and snaps and zippers and velcro and so many knives, Steve’s lucky he only jabs himself in the fingers three times. He finally gets the jacket open, and there’s a dark spot just at the bottom of where the coat rests, to the side of his hip.

Steve’s pretty sure it’s a puncture wound of some sort – knife or spear or bayonet for all Steve knows, and he watches the skin pull and knit itself back together. He traces the outline of it and Bucky makes a noise.

His arm moves, and the next thing Steve knows, he’s got a metal arm wrapped around him and is lying on Bucky’s chest, his heartbeat loud in Steve’s ear. Bucky’s not holding him tightly and Steve knows that, even though he’d probably wake Bucky up, he could easily get out of his grip. 

Steve raises his head and Bucky’s face is peaceful, his lashes fanned on his cheeks, dark against the color slowly coming in. Steve should get up. Maybe get a cloth to clean Bucky’s dirty face, maybe clean his wound. 

Bucky grumbles and his hand settles more firmly in the small of Steve’s back, pushing him back down, then curving around him again. Steve exhales slowly, shakily and settles against Bucky’s chest. Bucky will relax in his sleep and Steve will wiggle out of his grip and get out of there. And Bucky will be none the wiser.

He hopes.

**

Bucky wakes up to an empty bed, any rumpled covers or wrinkles Steve might have left behind smoothed out as if he’d never been there. Bucky thinks it might have been a hallucination, since Steve opens the front door at nine that morning carrying a huge coffee cup.

“That’s for me, right?”

Steve blinks at him, and the apples of his cheeks redden slightly. So, not a hallucination, but apparently they’re pretending it didn’t happen. “You have a coffee maker.”

“One that you use, and yet you have a delicious, sickeningly sweet concoction in your hand.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“It has whipped cream, Steve. We both know how I feel about whipped cream.”

“FRIDAY, could you please put whipped cream on Mr. Barnes’s shopping list?”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers.”

“FRIDAY, belay that order. We’re not talking about whipped cream in general. We’re talking about whipped cream right in front of me. With – ” He inhales and narrows his eyes. “ – Caramel and chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles. I didn’t think you were a cruel man.”

“When didn’t you think that?” Steve moves past him toward the kitchen, going over to the coffee maker and turning it on. He pops the lid off his drink, then grabs a spoon out of the drawer, putting a large scoop of whipped cream in a coffee mug. “Happy?”

Bucky shrugs. “Happier.”

Steve sighs and goes back into the living room, grabbing his computer. He brings it back to the kitchen and sets it up on the counter. “Did you get all the bad guys?”

“All the ones that were there. I’m sure there’s some more running around.” Bucky pours himself coffee as soon as he’s able to, then walks around to lean in next to Steve. “I assume you were the one who made me comfortable last night?”

The blush on Steve’s face darkens and spreads up to the tip of his ears. He very deliberately doesn’t look at Bucky as he shrugs. “I took your boots off.”

“Mm.” He doesn’t push and pretends he doesn’t see Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye, obviously wondering if Bucky’s going to push. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He opens a document. “You guys were gone for a while.”

“We were.” He nods. “I was thinking, you know, these calls to assemble really mess up my schedule. What if you give my itinerary to Stark and then we can broadcast it all over the world so they know when not to attack.”

“I’m sure that’s what the villains would take away from that.”

“Okay, well, maybe they’ll attack during the stupid Met Gala so I have to miss it.”

“You’re not missing it. I’ve got your suit ordered, and Tony’s tailor is coming as soon as it arrives to make any last-minute alterations. So you’re going, you’re going to look amazing, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

“You can’t make me enjoy it.”

“I’m sure Ms. Prince will make sure you enjoy it. And Tony. He’ll be there. That has to make it interesting at least.”

“You secretly hate me, don’t you?”

Steve frowns, his brow furrowing and his nose scrunching up. “Secretly?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I just came off a mission. A long mission. Where I got shot.”

“You got _shot_?” Steve sets his coffee down and moves over to Bucky. “Where?” He puts his hands on Bucky’s stomach, lifting his shirt.

“Bela-Rus?” Steve smacks him across the stomach, harder than Bucky expects. “Hey!”

“You _know_ what I mean.”

“Upper thigh.”

“Which one?”

Bucky frowns and taps his left hip. Steve growls and hooks his fingers under the waistband of Bucky’s sweats there and tugs them down. Bucky grabs for them so all Steve does is expose Bucky’s thigh. “Jesus _Christ_, Rogers.”

There’s a slightly puckered, shiny pink spot where the wound is almost healed. Steve glares at it like it might make it heal faster – and to be honest, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if it did under that look – then he reaches out and touches it.

Bucky absolutely does _not_ whimper, but he has to bite his lower lip and swallow the sound. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “Steve.”

“You have armor and a fucking metal arm. And a _shield_. How the fuck do you get _shot_?”

“I was busy shooting other people.”

“You have a _team_.”

Steve looks up at him, and Bucky meets his gaze. Steve’s lips are parted as if he’s going to say something else, and Bucky swallows hard. Steve’s fingers are still moving, stroking over the wound. “Steve.” His voice sounds choked and he reaches down and grabs the side of his sweats and pulls them up, the act pushing Steve’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

Steve blinks, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Bucky needs to make a beeline for his bedroom and put on something a hell of a lot more constricting. After he jerks off for about a half hour. That should get him through at least three orgasms and calm his dick down a little. “Right. Fine.” Steve licks his lips, and it takes everything Bucky has in him not to grab him and pull him in and do something that would likely end badly.

Or really, really, really well.

Steve looks just as shell-shocked, just as confused as Bucky. “Right. Um. Schedule. I should…” he grabs for his coffee and knocks it over. He and Bucky both stare as it hits the counter and spills all over. They both stare in horror. “My coffee.”

“Right now, Clint is having a breakdown and has no idea why.”

“I’m going to have a breakdown,” Steve doesn’t move, and he and Bucky watch the milky coffee and whipped cream start to drip over the edge. “I _need_ that.”

“Right. Let me put on some pants and we’ll go get coffee. Some fresh air will do us both some good.”

**

“I cannot believe I have to go to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “And yet, for the eighteenth time, you do.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“I don’t believe a word you say. You’re a liar, Steve. A mean old liar.”

“I don’t lie.”

“Definitive statements are always a lie.”

The apartment is quiet for a moment, then Steve actually laughs at him. “You know what you did there, right?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I’d ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth, but given that you’re a hundred and something, she’s dead.”

“Stop mocking me, asshole. Ugh.” Bucky stomps out of the bedroom, his bowtie loose around his neck. “I don’t pay you to mock me.”

“It’s a free service I provide.” Steve walks over to him. “You know, I have never in my life had to wear a bowtie and I can tie one. You actually have occasion to wear them, and you’re completely useless.”

“Hydra wasn’t big on sartorial choices beyond leather, so I didn’t get a lot of practice.”

“Bend down a little.”

Bucky stoops so it’s easier for Steve to fix his tie. His fingers move deftly, close to Bucky’s skin, as he carefully eases the fabric under the collar. His hands slide down Bucky’s chest when Bucky straightens, and Steve’s lips part slightly.

“Fuck.” Bucky takes a step back, almost a stumble, then rights himself. “Forgot my jacket.”

“Yeah. You need to pick up Ms. Prince in a half hour.” Steve grabs his tablet. “The car’s ready for you in the garage, and – ” He looks up as Bucky steps back out of the bedroom.

His pants are black with a stripe of black velvet up the sides to match his velvet cummerbund. His shirt is crisp white. Steve’s eyes widen, and Bucky shrugs. Stevee’s seen it all before, so Bucky doesn’t get why Steve’s eyes are roaming over him like he has every intention of devouring Bucky whole.

Bucky doesn’t mind. At all..

“So. What d’you think?” He spreads his arms and runs in a slow circle. “Fred Astaire classic old Hollywood, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods and looks away as Bucky faces him again. Steve’s face is flushed, red dark on the apples of his cheeks. “Yeah.” He clears his throat and takes a few steps back. “Ms. Prince is very lucky.”

“Still just friends.”

“I don’t know. You clean up nice. She might overlook your personality flaws and stoop to dating you.”

“You are such a shit.” He grabs his overcoat and slips it on. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Your reports are supposed to be to Fury by tomorrow, and since you didn’t do any while I was gone, I’m still playing catch-up.”

“I’d apologize, except I hate doing reports, and you’re better at them than me.” He tips his hat to Steve. “Stay tonight if you want, especially if you plan to be here late.”

“If you bring Ms. Prince home, I don’t want to get in the way of young – or in your case, very old – love.”

“Not gonna happen.” He taps his hat more firmly on his head. “Night, Steve.”

**

Steve sits on the counter, eating ice cream directly from the carton. It’s two in the morning, and he’s almost finished with Bucky’s reports, but if he has to look at his computer any longer he’s going to start typing complete gibberish and let Fury figure it out.

The apartment door opens, and Steve considers moving, but sticks his spoon back into the ice cream and takes another bite instead.

“Steve?”

“Mm mere.”

“I speak a lot of languages, but that’s not one of them.” Bucky walks into the kitchen _sans_ both of his jackets, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Steve has his spoon held in his mouth with his lips so he can wave without putting the ice cream down.

“Is that my pecan praline?”

Steve pulls the spoon out of his mouth. “Yes.”

“That’s mine.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I possess it.”

“You don’t think I can take it from you?”

“I will fight you to the death for this ice cream.” Steve pulls it out of Bucky’s reach. “I _need_ it.”

“I had to spend the evening with a bunch of actors and models and musicians. And Tony.”

“Point?”

“I need it more.”

“I have been doing your reports for about seven hours. No one needs this more than I do.”

Bucky stalks over to the counter, taking off his hat and setting it down next to Steve’s hip. Without looking away from Steve, he opens the drawer and pulls out a spoon of his own. Steve scoops another bite out and, holding Bucky’s gaze, puts it in his mouth and sucks it off his spoon.

Bucky’s jaw tics and he gets a spoonful of his own and lifts it to his mouth. Before he can reach it, Steve grabs his wrist and redirects the spoon to his mouth.

Bucky steals Steve’s spoon from his hand and uses it to take a bite of his own. Steve smiles, slow and wicked. “No Ms. Prince?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s not happening?” He takes the carton out of Steve’s hand and sets it on the counter beside him.

“Hey! I was – ” He stops when Bucky steps closer into the vee of Steve’s parted legs. “What are you…”

Bucky takes Steve’s chin in his metal hand, holding it lightly. “Not going to happen. Got it?”

Steve blinks several times, long lashes brushing against the heat rising on his cheeks. “Um.”

Bucky doesn’t move back, though he does release Steve and grabs the ice cream. He scoops out a bite and presses the spoon to Steve’s lips. Steve swallows hard and parts them, eyes wide as he stares at Bucky. Bucky slides the spoon into Steve’s mouth, then lets it go. Steve closes his lips around it, and with a wicked grin, Bucky backs away.

“Ha!” He dances back farther, then runs away. “My ice cream!”

“Hey!” Steve hops off the counter and takes off after Bucky, climbing on the back of the couch so he can grab Bucky’s shoulders and pull himself onto his back. Bucky hooks one hand under Steve’s thigh, and Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist. “Gimme.”

Steve grabs for the carton over Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky moves it just out of his reach.

“Fine.” Steve relaxes slightly, settling more firmly against Bucky’s back. Given that he’s supporting Steve, Bucky can’t actually eat any of the ice cream, which is a victory in and of itself.

“My ice cream.”

“Mm,” Steve hums, dangerously close to Bucky’s ear. He tightens his hand on Bucky’s right shoulder, and slides his left hand around Bucky’s side, settling it just beneath Bucky’s sternum.

“I hope you’re not trying to distract me. I’m the Winter Soldier. I’m impervious to – ” Bucky shrieks as Steve pulls his hand back quickly and digs under Bucky’s ribs.

Steve laughs as Bucky tries to get away from Steve’s tickling, even though Steve’s clinging to his back and both of Bucky’s hands are occupied. “Impervious to what, Mr. Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s fighting a laugh of his own. “That all you got, Rogers?” He digs his fingers into Steve’s thigh. Steve gasps and tries to squirm away, but Bucky drops the ice cream carton on the coffee table and hooks his free hand under Steve’s other thigh.

“Fuck!” Steve jolts and Bucky has to tighten his grip to keep him in place. “That’s cold!”

He’d been holding the ice cream with his metal hand and hadn’t thought about it before grabbing Steve. He’s sure it is cold, even though he can’t really feel it. Bucky cackles victoriously as he maneuvers to the couch and sets Steve on the back of it. “Surrender!”

“Never!” Steve wraps both hands around Bucky’s neck loosely.

“Are you strangling me?”

He can feel Bucky’s throat move as he talks and suppresses a shiver. “Only until you pass out.”

“Oh. Got it.” Bucky goes down to his knees, taking Steve with him, then sprawls flat on the ground.

“Really?”

He makes some choking noises and Steve lets him go, getting up on his knees. He’s still moving when Bucky grabs his wrist and pulls him down onto the floor, and Steve ends up on his back. Bucky turns his head and sticks his tongue out, making an overdramatic groaning noise.

Steve rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out as well. Bucky opens one eye and smiles. His hand is still wrapped around Steve’s wrist, and he strokes his thumb over his pulse. Steve licks his lips and Bucky watches blatantly. He releases Steve’s wrist and moves slightly closer. He touches the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’ve got ice cream right here.”

Steve’s tongue darts out, touching Bucky’s finger as well as the spot he’d pointed to. Both of them shiver, then Steve jerks back like a delayed reaction. “It’s going to melt.”

Bucky’s voice is deep. “Let it.” Steve shakes his head and scrambles to his feet, grabbing the ice cream off the table and hurrying into the kitchen. Bucky groans and smacks the bottom of his head against the floor, asking himself, “What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?”

Steve comes out of the kitchen as Bucky’s getting off the floor. He heads toward the door and Bucky stops him, grabbing his wrist lightly before letting go again.

“Just stay here tonight.” He reaches out and squeezes Steve’s shoulder lightly. “It’s late, well, early. You’re tired. The guest room’s made up.”

“I don’t…”

“It won’t happen again.” Bucky releases him. “I’ll see you in the morning. Later in the morning. _Much_ later in the morning.”

“I…”

Bucky musses Steve’s hair. “Bed.”

Huffing, Steve glares at Bucky, though he’s fighting a smile. “Just because you’re old enough to be my grandfather doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.”

“You’re a teenaged brat. Go to bed or you’re grounded.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Actually, this time I hired you. So I am.” He bends down, grabs Steve around the waist, and hefts him over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

Bucky keeps his arm tight around Steve’s thighs to keep him in place. Steve wriggles, fighting Bucky all the way to the guest room. Bucky drops him on the bed, frowns and points at him. “Stay.”

Steve flips him off as Bucky turns, shuts the light off, and walks out.

“I do what I want!” Steve yells out. But he doesn’t get off the bed.

**

Steve wakes up a few hours later. He’s covered with a blanket that smells like Bucky.

Not that he knows how Bucky smells.

Except he does because Bucky smells like gun oil and the special shampoo that he likes. Shaking his head, Steve sits up and remembers he’s in Bucky’s spare room. A quick glance at the clock tells him he’s been asleep for roughly three hours.

He gets up, stretches, then goes out to the kitchen. He starts the coffee, then stares at it until there’s just enough to pour himself a cup. He doctors it with cream before making his way to where his laptop is still open on the loveseat, then settles down in front of it. When he wakes up the screen, the last of the reports for Fury is still sitting there, still unfinished.

Groaning, Steve drinks half the cup of coffee before pulling the computer onto his lap.

Bucky finds him there a couple of hours later, curled up around the laptop, asleep. He picks up the laptop and Steve groans softly, then settles into the space it leaves before sighing and relaxing again. Bucky sits in the chair diagonal to the loveseat and reads over the report. He adds a few sentences to the end, then sends it off.

After that he just… Watches Steve. He looks soft in sleep, nothing like the brittle, prickly asshole who antagonizes Bucky, who pushes at every turn. Who makes Bucky laugh and keeps him in line.

Bucky leans back and looks Steve over from head to toe. He doesn’t remember much of his past before the war, before he was the Winter Soldier. Most of what he knows he read or came from stories that Howard passed down to Tony.

But no one alive knew him back then. The book that quotes his sisters says that he was popular, friendly, that he loved to dance, and always had a girl on his arm. He remembers working long hours. He vaguely remembers family, definitely doesn’t remember anything that ever felt like this.

Not that he knows for sure what “this” is, what to call it. Desire maybe? He could understand that, but Steve actively infuriates him. Half the time Bucky wants to strangle him. He pulls out his phone and considers texting Natasha about it, but he’s relatively certain she’d laugh at him.

He’d probably deserve it.

It really shouldn’t matter. Steve’s made it clear he’s not interested in anything beyond an employer-employee relationship, no matter how obvious it is that there’s something more.

“It’s creepy to watch someone sleep.”

Steve’s voice is sleep rough, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. “It could be worse.” He shrugs as Steve sits up and rubs his eyes. “I used to wait until people woke up and looked at me, waited until their eyes widened when they realized who I was, and then I’d assassinate them.”

“I’ll count myself as lucky then. But if you were thinking that made it less creepy, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He raises his eyebrows. “I distinctly remember dropping your ass in bed.”

“I woke up.”

“And came out here to sleep instead? Didn’t want to be comfortable?”

“Have to finish the last report and get it in to Fury.”

“Oh, I did that.”

“It wasn’t finished!”

“No, I finished it and sent it to him.”

“That actually scares me more than the whole Assassin 101 lesson you just gave me.” He shifts to the side and leans against the arm of the couch, wrapping his arms around his legs as he brings his knees up, resting his chin on them. “Did you have a good time last night?”

“I needed ice cream when I got home.” That makes Steve blush, and Bucky licks his lips, which seems to make Steve blush a deeper red. “So what do you think?”

“It can’t have been that bad. Gorgeous men and women all dressed up, food and drink and jewels.”

“I like three of those things, and believe it or not, most people aren’t interested in me so much as they are in my heroic persona.” Steve snorts and Bucky ignores him. “And food I can get most anywhere.”

“I’m sure if people had a chance to get to know you, they’d… No. Nevermind. Getting to know you isn’t the way to make them like you for you.”

“You are _such_ an ass.” He huffs a laugh and flips Steve off at the same time. “I’ll have you know that you’re the only person who’s gotten to know me that hasn’t liked me.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t hate you.” He buries his smile against his knee. “Not completely.”

“Hostile working environment. I’m going to ask Tony what our rules of employment are. Harassment has to be against the law or something.”

“You give as good as you get, so nice try. Besides, I’m pretty sure no one would believe I was harassing you.”

“I have the rest of the Avengers as character witnesses.” Steve just stares at him, and Bucky sighs. “Fine. You win.”

“I know.” Steve stretches and scratches his stomach. “Ugh. I need to go home and shower and change clothes. Did you have anything in particular you needed me for today?”

“I don’t know. What’s the shorthand on my calendar say?”

“In that case, I’m going to do that and leave you to fend for yourself. I trust you can stay out of trouble until tomorrow?”

“You’re not coming back?”

Steve stands up and grabs his laptop before heading over to the door for his shoes and coat. “Don’t be scared.” He walks back to Bucky and pats him on the shoulder. “You’re a brave boy.”

“Swear to God at some point I’m going to spank you. I don’t care if you’d rather give than receive.”

Steve leans in and whispers in Bucky’s ear, causing Bucky to shiver hard. “You don’t scare me at all.”


End file.
